


carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters

by ginger__snapped



Series: Rin's Whumptober 2019 [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blood?, Dehumanization, Dragged away, Gunshots, Im tired, Isolation, Number Nine - Freeform, Number Six - Freeform, SO, Stab Wound, Stitches, Whumptober 2019, anyway, be safe babes!, but like less than the amount of period blood you know?, enjoy, gunpoint, no. 5, number eight - Freeform, number eleven, number seven - Freeform, shackled, theres blood mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-25 15:34:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20914427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginger__snapped/pseuds/ginger__snapped
Summary: “Pete?” Tony asked.“We’re in trouble,” he whispered.And then all hell broke loose.





	1. five: gunpoint

“Okay, but come on, Mr. Stark! It’s  _ Disneyland. _ ”

“It’s just a theme park built by a company that’s only interested in money,” Tony said dryly, snatching a fry from Peter’s plate.

“Whatever,” Peter grumbled, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation.

Peter’s piece of pizza was halfway to his mouth when he froze, the hair on the back of his neck raising. 

“Pete?” Tony asked. 

“We’re in trouble,” he whispered.

And then all hell broke loose.

Tony jumped into action, pushing Peter under the table and forming his emergency wrist gauntlet. 

“Let me help!” Peter hissed, and Tony shook his head.

“Stay down.”

Tony peered out, swallowing. 

“Everyone out! Try to call the cops and we’ll shoot!”

There were three men, all in black with ski masks -  _ how generic  _ \- and they all had guns. 

“We see you, Stark!” 

And then there was someone gripping his shirt, pulling him out from under the table, and Peter yelled. 

Tony attempted to fire his gauntlet, but his arm

was wrenched behind his back as he was forced to his knees. 

“Don’t move,” the man hissed, and Tony felt the cool barrel of a gun against his temple.

“Now,” another man said, coming over. 

“We want the boy to come out from under the table - no tricks, or we blow his brains out.”

Tony’s eyes met Peter’s, and he mouthed a ‘no,’ silently pleading Peter not to do anything. They’d kill both of them, or, take Peter, leaving Tony unable to protect him. 

Peter slowly crawled out, and yelped when one of the men grabbed him and roughly shoved him to the ground. 

Tony had to bite his lip and look away. 

“Get them out to the car!” 

A sack was placed over Tony’s head, and he coughed at the sickly sweet smell that met his nose. 

The last thing he heard before he passed out was the sound of gunfire and screams from somewhere behind him. 

  
  
  
  



	2. six: dragged away

Tony woke up in a cold, damp cell, his back aching and throat dry.

He blinked wearily, eyes struggling to focus in the dim lighting. 

His eyes finally landed on a form lying on the ground a few feet away, and he crawled over, praying that he wasn’t dead.

“Pete?” he whispered, hand hovering over the boys pale face. 

There was no response. 

Tony gently shook his shoulders, fear slowly gripping his heart. 

Then Peter coughed, and Tony sank back on his heels, relief flooding through his body. 

“M’s’r St’k?” Peter mumbled, hand fumbling around for something. 

“Yeah, bud,” Tony whispered, taking Peter’s hand in his own. 

“Where are we?” Peter asked, eyes starting to fall back closed. 

“I’m not sure, Pete. But, come on, let’s get you up. I think you have a concussion.”

Peter let Tony maneuver him into a sitting position against the wall of the cell, sighing as Tony started gently rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Stand away from it!” 

Tony flinched at the yell, hand tightening on Peter’s. 

There was the sound of a lock, and then heavy boots marching on cement. 

Tony stared at the three people in front of them, body tense. 

“Stand away, Stark.”

“Why should I?” Tony asked, grip tightening around Peter. 

“Because it is not allowed physical touch. So, step away.”

Tony bristled. 

“Peter?” 

“It does not deserve a name.”

Tony felt a surge of protective anger, and he was up and charging before he realized he was doing it. 

His attempt, however, was futile, because he was instantly restrained, one of the men grabbing him and painfully twisting his arms behind his back.

And then there was the sound of a gun cocking, and he stopped struggling.

"We don't want anything from you, Stark. In fact, we can send you right on your way, and no harm will come to you. That, I swear on."

"And what about Peter?" Tony asked evenly.

"It stays here."

"Then I'm staying," Tony said firmly, wincing when he was thrown roughly to the ground.

"Have it your way," the man said. "But, we must set down some ground rules now. You cannot touch it, cannot call it a name, cannot give it your food, and cannot let it sleep on the bed."

"He's not an it!" Tony yelled. "He's a person, with feelings and a life, and he's better than you'll ever be," he spat.

"He's tainted! He's a disgrace to the human race - and doesn't deserve to be called as such! Mutants are ruining the pure bloodline of humans, and they must be eliminated!"

Tony turned back to Peter, who was curled up behind him, eyes filled with tears that weren't spilling over.

"Hey, Pete, bud, don't listen to them -"

A gunshot rang out, and Peter screamed.

"Every time you break a rule, it gets punished," the man said, turning and walking out. "Bring it up for testing."

Peter whimpered as the other two men grabbed his arms, dragging him away from Tony.

Away to where he couldn't help him, and to where they were going to do god-knows-what to him.

And Tony couldn't touch him, couldn't reassure him that everything was going to be okay.

This time, there was nothing Tony could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lads im sorry I forgot to post this earlier. anyway, apparently my english teacher thinks im good at writing and my drama teacher thought our pantomime was good so thats pretty wack. hope you enjoyed this chapter! 
> 
> yell at me on tumblr! @marvel-and-the-gays


	3. seven: isolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony was going insane. 
> 
> There was nothing to do, nothing to see, and nothing to even hear. 
> 
> He’d sat in complete silence and darkness for hours, and he was up to the point where he wanted to just scream to break the emptiness wide open.

Tony didn’t know how long it had been.

He’d been treated relatively well - they’d give him half-decent food, the bed wasn’t that bad, and they didn’t hurt him.

Not physically, at least. (Not being able to help Peter was the worst mental torture, he discovered.)

But Peter was a whole other story. 

He was thrown back in the cell multiple times, beaten and bloody, unconscious most of the time. 

And Tony couldn’t even help him. 

Their “rules” had flown out of his mind the first time that they threw Peter back in with him. 

Peter had been lying on the ground, body limp, and god, it scared Tony. 

He had rushed over, collapsing next to Peter, hands running over him to try and wake him up. 

But they had shoved him back and _ electrocuted _his kid in front of him. 

He learned not to touch Peter when he came back. 

He’d sit two feet away from Peter’s body until he woke up, then would wait for their food to come - Tony usually getting some half-assed meal consisting of a meat, some fruit, and water. Peter, on the other hand, got a piece of bread and a cup of water. 

Tony knew this was a far cry from enough food for someone with Peter’s metabolism, and he tried to tell them so - but they didn’t listen. 

He also tried to sneak Peter some food. The first time, it had been blatantly outright, and they’d also punished Peter for that. So, Tony had to figure something else out. 

They’d tested the limits of the camera, and had figured out that if Tony laid on the bed, Peter curled up besides him on the floor, Tony could sneak him some food, hand hovering a few inches above Peter’s head. 

Tony would tap out Peter’s name in Morse code over and over until the boy fell asleep, and only then would he let himself sleep. 

It was painfully expected to be woken abruptly by two men coming in and dragging Peter off, the boy’s struggles lessening every day that passed. 

Tony closed his eyes and tried not to focus on the sound of Peter’s feet dragging on the floor, curling in on himself a little tighter. 

Then the lock fell back into place, and he was left to his own thoughts. 

“Do you have any books?” Tony finally asked. 

It had been longer than usual since Peter had left, and Tony was growing anxious. 

“No,” came the short reply from the guard outside the cell. 

Tony sighed. 

“Netflix?” 

The man turned and glared at him. 

Then, the sound of footsteps sounded, and Tony perked up, watching for Peter. 

But he didn’t come, and instead, Tony was met with the sight of two guards in his cell. 

“Come on.”

“I’m staying here,” Tony said evenly. 

“Don’t you want to see it?” one of the men leered, edging closer to the bed. 

“Peter? I’ll see him when you monsters are done with your torturing. As always.”

He got no response, and was seized by the arms and forced along. 

They pulled a sack over his head, turned him around a few times until he was dizzy, and then marched him at a faster pace than he could walk in his weakened state to somewhere. 

After he was shoved roughly into a room, they removed the bag, and Tony glanced wildly around. 

It was smaller than the other cell. 

Around seven by seven feet, with no windows and no lighting. Just a mattress with a blanket and a dirtied toilet in the corner. 

Then the door slammed behind him, and Tony was left alone. 

~~~

Tony was going insane. 

There was nothing to do, nothing to see, and nothing to even hear. 

He’d sat in complete silence and darkness for hours, and he was up to the point where he wanted to just scream to break the emptiness wide open. 

He had thought about Peter a lot. Where he was, what they were doing to him - his mind came up with some terrible things - and if he was even alive. 

Peter, stomach cut open and organs laid out. Peter, struggling for breath as they held him underwater. Peter, shot up with bullets imbedded in his skin. Peter, cut to pieces, his body an unrecognizable mess. Peter, stitched up all over, eyes haunted. 

Tony shuddered, curling his knees up to his chest. 

Just as he was considering getting up to pee, a slot in the door opened and a tray was shoved through. 

It had a piece of dry steak, an orange, a breadroll, a glass of water, and a book. 

“You do realize I can’t even see in here, right?” Tony called dryly. 

The slot on the bottom was opened in response, letting in a sliver of light. Tony sighed, and dragged the mattress over so he could sit on it and read the book. 

He scoffed. It was a fictional book about mutants taking over and destroying the world. Tony shoved the book through the slot, and set to eating the food. 

~~~

It was seven meals later when they finally opened the door all the way, burning Tony’s retinas. 

He was grabbed roughly, stumbling as they pulled him out, the sack placed over his head bringing some relief to the brightness. 

And then, the sack was pulled off his head, and his eyes struggled to adjust. 

They still couldn’t when he was shoved back into his previous cell, with a trembling Peter curled up, facing away from him. 

And then, he finally stopped seeing spots, and fell forward, stumbling and collapsing to his knees next to Peter, who opened his eyes and screamed. 

“Hey, hey, it’s me,” Tony whispered, hands running through Peter’s hair. There was such fear and confusion in Peter’s face, and Tony felt pain grip his heart. 

Peter closed his eyes, shaking his head. 

“No, no, no, no, no,” he mumbled. “No. You’re dead.”

Tony felt his heart break, and couldn’t help the hot tears from slipping down his face. 

“Not dead, Pete,” he whispered. “Alive and here, and I swear, I’m not going to let them touch you.”

It was a promised best left unmade, however, because they dragged Tony off of Peter, both him and Peter yelling as they were dragged away from each other. 

Tony was spitting every curse imaginable at the men holding them, while Peter was crying and screaming, a sound that would forever scar Tony’s nightmares. 

And then, they stabbed Peter right through the stomach, and the sound Peter let out was the most terrifying of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yooooooo thanks so much to everyone for reading <3333333
> 
> lowkey worried bc my senior moves in the field test is on saturday (for figure skating) and so is homecoming (which i was going to go to with my ex-girlfriend, but that's obviously not happening) and i also need to finish the book for aca deca?? and i have a bio test??? and our first quarter is ending??? and i had my last lesson with one of my coaches this morning??? yikes???? 
> 
> anyway, those are just my problems. hope yall are doing better! stay strong babes!
> 
> -rin


	4. eight: stab wound

They threw Peter to the ground after that. 

Let Tony fall to his knees, hot tears blurring his vision. He crawled over to Peter, pulling his head into his lap and trying to ignore the growing puddle of blood beneath Peter. 

“Hey, hey,” he whispered. “It’s okay, buddy. Look at me. You’re going to be okay.”

Peter clawed at Tony’s shirt, bony fingers digging into the fabric.

Tony wrapped his arms around Peter’s bare chest, pulling him in and trying to ignore how painfully prominent his bones were. 

Surprisingly, they didn’t come in to tear the two of them apart. 

Tony took it a step further, gently lifting Peter and bringing him to the bed.

Laying him down on the threadbare blanket, Tony’s hands hovered over Peter’s stomach, unsure of what to do. 

Peter’s face was scrunched up in pain, hands gripping the blanket beneath him, body dead still. 

“Pete, kiddo, I’m going to…  _ Shit _ ! I don’t know what to do.” Tony took in a steadying breath, running a hand through his hair. “Alright… I’m gonna try and tie it off, okay? And I guess we pray to the gods that you don’t get an infection from whatever’s here.”

Tony ripped the blanket into strips, trying to ignore how large the bloodstain was already. 

As he gently lifted Peter up to tie it around, Peter hissed, trying not to jostle his wound too much. 

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispered, managing to tie it off despite the shakiness of his hands. Peter whimpered at the sharp pain, and Tony flinched at the sound. 

Tony sank down onto the bed, pulling Peter’s head into his lap and gently stroking his hair. 

“It’s gonna be alright, Peter,” he whispered, trying to convince himself that it was true. 

No one had found them yet. And it had been what felt like forever. Tony wasn’t entirely sure that they were going to make it through this one. 

But, he continued with his ministrations, trying to pretend that they were at the Tower, with some dumb movie playing while Peter studied Aca Deca flashcards on his phone. 

But that wasn’t what was happening, and Tony couldn’t find any hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holY sHIT im so tired lmaooooo. its that time of year in california where it just... smells like smoke and ive had headaches from it. and yay! school is cancelled tomorrow! which means we have to come back after finals! ugh. sorry this is so shitty, but i really just couldn't today and i have a lot of shit going on. might come back and rewrite this sometimes bc i know it sucks but whatever. 
> 
> a n y w a y, yall are amazing and powerful and i love yall!
> 
> -rin


	5. nine: shackled

Tony woke up with a raging headache and such a severe hunger that he lost his breath for a moment. He closed his eyes, took in a shaky breath, and then pushed himself up into a sitting position. 

The movement set his head spinning, vision blacking out for a second before he was able to see. 

Peter was still lying on the bed, dead still and overly pale. 

_ Please don’t be dead. _

Tony’s heart quickened, and he reached out with a shaky hand to feel Peter’s pulse point. It was there, but it was sluggish and far, far slower than Tony would’ve liked. 

Tony closed his eyes, resting his head against the cold cement of the wall. 

He was so tired, so hungry, and so  _ cold. _

The cold had been a part of their capture since the beginning, the cell never warmed once. But it chilled him to the bone, and he felt like it was a cold that would never leave. 

Tony exhaled slowly, looking at his hands and freezing. They were encrusted with dried blood - Peter’s blood - and the sight of it brought him back to Titan, with Peter’s ashes on his hands -  _ Please, I don’t want to go  _ \- and guilt heavy on his chest. 

Tony’s breath hitched, and he brought his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around himself and trying to control his panic. 

The fact that they hadn’t come in yet was making Tony overly nervous. Being that they had responded so harshly to Tony’s miniscule moments of affection towards Peter, their absence was unsettling, to say the least. 

A sudden feeling of sickness overtook him, and Tony stumbled to his feet over to the toilet, falling to his knees and dry heaving into the dirty basin. 

He closed his eyes, stomach heaving, but nothing coming up - he hadn’t eaten anything of considerable sustenance in a while. 

Tony sat with his head hanging over the bowl for a few minutes, the pressure behind his eyes only worsening. 

And then, there was the sound of boots that Tony had grown to fear. 

As much as he wanted to move, wanted to get over to Peter, he couldn’t. His body was exhausted, dehydrated and malnourished, and his limbs felt like lead. 

The door opened, the scraping of metal on cement making Tony wince. 

“Get him up,” a voice said, and Tony felt hands on his arms, letting them drag him up to his feet.

“So,” the man started, and Tony would’ve rolled his eyes, but he feared he would pass out if he did. “The famous Tony Stark. Oh, how we’ve brought you down.”

“Not my choice,” Tony rasped. 

The man chuckled. “Well, I thought I would come and deliver the good news. We’ve finished the testing!” He smiled, and it sent shivers down Tony’s spine. He glanced over at Peter, who was still unconscious on the bed. “Which means that, unfortunately, I’m going to have to kill you.”

Tony’s eyes widened, but he made no move to struggle - how could he? - as the men holding him handcuffed his hands together. 

He stumbled as they dragged him over to the wall, flinching as a knife was brandished. 

The next series of events happened too quickly for Tony to comprehend. One man hooked a chain into the handcuffs, making Tony have to stand on his tip-toes. The other made a sudden movement, and it took Tony a second to realize that there was now a large gash in his stomach. 

The pain hit him all at once, stealing his breath and bringing him to the brink of unconsciousness. 

“Have fun, Mr. Stark,” the man said. “It should take you a couple of days to completely bleed out, but with the added strain of not being on the ground, it might be sooner.” 

He walked out of the door, turning back to send one final grin Tony’s way. 

“It was so much fun running all those tests and slowly taking away its will.”

And then the door was shut, and Tony was left to his pain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	6. eleven: stitches

James Rhodes was not the type of person to give up. 

He hadn’t given up when Tony went missing the first time, and you could be damn sure he wasn’t going to give up this time. 

And yet, it had been a month, and there was nothing. Not even when he had all of the Avengers working it with him. 

Natasha and Bruce were the most distressed, Natasha resorting to spending over an hour punching things in the gym each day, and Bruce falling in on himself, becoming quiet and reserved. 

But goddammit, he was not going to give up on his best friend and his son. 

He was drinking his tenth cup of coffee when a notification popped up on the screen. 

_ Facial recognition match. _

In his haste, he nearly knocked over the mug, but he managed to open the match and save his drink. 

And - Tony. And Peter. They were in a restaurant, some hole-in-the-well joint in the city. 

And then, the men came, and Rhodey watched as his best friend was taken, breath baited as he waited for something, anything that would give them the slightest clue. 

A license plate. 

They had a license plate. 

“Natasha!” Rhodey yelled, hands flying over the keyboard as he tried to track the car. 

“What?” she asked, sounding miserable - and looking like it too, in her sweats and tank top she’d been wearing for the past week. 

“I have a plate number,” he gasped, speeding through the video recording of the car. 

“Seriously?” 

Natasha was next to him, working on the other computer, trying to get facial recognizations of the men. 

“And I’ve got faces,” she breathed, not five minutes later. 

“Well?” he asked, the smallest of smiles ghosting on his lips. 

“I’ll be ready in five,” she said, and dashed out of the room. 

~~~

Tony swore he was hallucinating things now. 

The pain in his abdomen was so intense, and he could barely discern between reality and what his head was showing him. 

But he could hear banging from somewhere outside, and then there was a scream, and the sound of a repulsor. 

He let his head fall back, grinning stupidly up at the ceiling. He had to be imagining things. He was close to his death - he had to be, he’d lost so much blood, and his brain was trying to convince him that he would be okay. 

But no - that was the distinct sound of the War Machine armor, and it was getting closer and closer. 

And then -  _ holy shit  _ \- Rhodey was there, blasting down the door and running inside. 

“Jesus Christ, Tones,” Rhodey whispered. “What the hell happened?”

Tony opened his mouth, and promptly passed out into Rhodey’s arms. 

~~~

Natasha Romanoff did not get scared. She did not worry, she did not cry, and she certainly didn’t show emotions. 

But, as she sat next to Peter’s limp body, his chest barely rising and falling, her hands shook as she tried to thread the needle. 

Bruce had taken off the makeshift tourniquet, and his face had considerably paled. 

“We can’t wait for Helen. We need this cleaned and stitched now. Natasha, help me,” he had said, and Natasha had listened, working on carefully stitching the long gash in Tony’s abdomen before she moved to Peter. 

The wound looked worse cleaned, she decided. She could distinctly see the entrance, and it made her nauseous. Peter was just a kid. 

Natasha took in a shaky breath, folding her hands in her lap and trying to control herself. 

“Nat,” Bruce whispered. “I can do it. You don’t have to put yourself through this.”

Natasha shook her head once. 

“No. I can do it.”

She opened her eyes, and managed to thread the needle, her hands hovering over Peter’s stomach. 

Her eyes were fixated on the wound, and before she could stop them, tears were pooling in her eyes, and she set the needle down, getting up and walking away. 

“I can’t do it,” she murmured. “I can’t.”

There was a gentle touch on her arm, and she turned to see Bruce, who had a sympathetic but pained look on his face. 

Natasha let herself be hugged, closing her eyes and trying not to let the tears spill over. 

She let Bruce lead her to sit down, let him wrap a blanket around her shoulders, and let him gently instruct her to lie down. 

She watched as Bruce gently stitched Peter up, eyes glazing over with even more tears. 

Natasha laid on the seat of the Quinjet for the rest of the ride, and let Rhodey lead her out, angry at herself for not doing anything, but unable to make herself do anything. 

She stood to the side with Rhodey’s arm around her as she watched the medical team rush in and wheel Peter and Tony out. 

“They’re going to be okay,” Rhodey whispered. 

Natasha rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes as she took in a breath. 

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao school was cancelled today again so here i am, not doing homework, and writing this for you guys. please enjoy! 
> 
> note: i skipped prompt ten, ill write it later lmao
> 
> ALSO ITS WORLD MENTAL HEALTH DAY AND JUST KNOW THAT ALL OF YOU ARE STRONG AND BEAUTIFUL AND AMAZING AND DONT LET ANYONE ELSE CONVINCE YOU OTHERWISE, EVEN YOURSELF. YALL BETTER BE LOVING YOURSELVES TODAY OR IMMA FIND YOU AND GIVE YOU A SHIT TON OF LOVE, YOU HEAR ME?? <3333333333
> 
> -rin

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading babes! 
> 
> yell at me on tumblr! @marvel-and-the-gays


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